Answers in the Intermissions
by Phantasietanz
Summary: [DHr]Even when you seem to have found an opening in the dank cell youve been locked in,you realize that its merely a crack,just enough to let some sunlight through. When they see that youve found it,they quickly patch it up again.Its their job after all.
1. Part One: Awake

**Summary:** There was a boy. There was a girl. They loved, they lost, but they never stopped loving. They saw, they discovered. They cried. There was a tale. This is their tale.

**Disclaimer:** I'm not even going to try and make this interesting. I hardly own the characters. Just the plot and the way the characters are presented to you. Hopefully, one disclaimer will suffice for all three chapters.

**A/N:** It's so good to be back at last! Anyways, after the break I too, I tried to improve my writing, so hopefully that reflects in this little 3-shot. In case you didn't know, this fic is Draco/Hermione, and it will be done in three pieces, so it isn't over at the end of this first chapter.

When you're done, you should probably go leave a review so that the next chapters can be as good as possible and I can know whether or not my writing has improved. Then, you might even want to go check out a couple of my other stories!

* * *

**Answers in the Intermissions**

**Part one: Awake**

There was a boy.

A boy who lived in the dark shadows, hiding. Hiding from himself, from his life, from his destiny. Because what would he find if he went out into the world anyways? Death. Not that he feared death, not really. The boy didn't fear dying - didn't fear the never ending blackness that it would bring or the eternity of it all. No, what he feared most was pain. The pain of dying was what he feared most. Because he knew - somehow he knew, his destiny was wrong.

He was destined to kill. Murder.

It was what he was taught, ever since he was little and barely yet understanding why the spider he had tried to pick up with his bare hands wasn't moving anymore - wasn't skittering around his bedpost anymore. Why his little fingers were sticky with something wet. But it was all better when his mother reprimanded him for playing with those 'nasty bugs' and washed his hands and dried them with a fluffy white towel.

He'd gone off to play with a funny shrunken skull his father had brought home from work and forgotten the ordeal by bedtime.

He never asked what job his father did. It was silently understood that daddy's job wasn't to be discussed because there were people who didn't like it. They were bad people whose blood had dirty filth in it from all the bad they'd caused in the world. And they were why his father's job was so important. Besides, he always brought home new toys for him. They were gifts from those he worked with. The boy was just happy to have something new to add to his collection. He didn't ask where it came from.

And one day - one day he was going to be just like daddy.

But as he grew older, the boy learned. And somehow, the right and wrong he had been taught all his life didn't seem to quite make sense. How could he be superior to the girl who beat him in every subject no matter how hard he tried, yet completely equal to his 'friends' who often had trouble deciphering the difficult process of eating and breathing at the same time? It just didn't make sense.

He had seen the blood of the bad people once. Seen is spurt out of a newly murdered victim during a riot one day in his seventh year. Yet all he saw was blood cascading across the floor, not filth. It was red, a deep red, and there wasn't any mud in it. And it was exactly the same as his own. That was when the boy first questioned his destiny, the definition of right and wrong, and everything he'd ever known.

He had admired the stunning red against the white snow though. It was kind of pretty.

Soon the boy learned even more. More and more often, he saw new things from a new view and he wondered why he'd never seen them before. He never really did realize exactly when the blindfold of prejudice was slipped off his face, but he began to feel it.

But his past wouldn't leave him, just as the black mark on his left arm wouldn't go away, no matter how hard he scrubbed with soap and water and with his mother's loofah and with his own bare fingernails.

It just wouldn't go away.

So he hid.

Not physically of course, but within his own mind and away from his own consciousness, because if he physically hid, he'd be found and killed. Not that he was afraid of death. Just the pain. But hiding within ones head from ones mind is the most painful of all, because there is nowhere to hide. Just darkness and black that never really ended and didn't conceal you like you'd hoped.

He stayed there for awhile, hiding but not really hidden. In the most shadowy nooks and crannies in the place where dreams die and hope never was and forever can be bought if you have enough to buy it. There, lies were the truth and the truth was lies that you told yourself to feel better about it all.

Sometimes he read the fairy tales he used to love as a little boy. He was taken off to places where right and wrong was so easy to differentiate and every story ended happily. And he wished so badly for that to be real.

* * *

There was a girl. 

The girl's life was perfectly laid out in front of her. Each perfectly placed piece of the jigsaw puzzle that was her life had been carefully thought over and selected. And each piece had been gotten through hard work and determination because they would all help secure her future.

But now the puzzle was finished. Yes, it was beautiful and shiny and attractive… but it was finished. There was no need for her to work on it anymore.

She had accomplished everything she'd always wanted. And she didn't know where to move on to. She could frame the puzzle and hang it on her wall for all to admire… but after a while it would eventually lose its appeal. That was when she realized that perhaps everything she had worked for her entire wasn't all it'd been cracked up to be.

So the girl waited for the moment of truth. She waited for a light to guide her in the direction and to tell her what her destiny was.

* * *

One day during a walk under the moon and stars, they met. 

And over a cup of late night coffee, they talked.

He barely remembered her, but how could he have not noticed her before? She was an angel. His angel. Well, not really, but is there really a difference in the eyes on one fallen in the pit of love?

She showed him that he could choose his own path in life if only he worked for it and tried and _believed_ in it. Her laughter and the way her eyes shined and the way she saw the world, inspired him. He admired the way she could see the beauty and worth in everything, and how romance novels could still make her teary eyed. And mostly, he loved how down to earth she was, loved how close she was to the real world.

She liked watching the sky. Especially the moon at night and the stars twinkling overhead, because they reminded her of how big the world was and how small she was. How insignificant her life was in the big picture, so it was okay to have fun once in a while and forget your duties. Besides, she thought that the sun got too much attention anyways.

The boy wondered how there could be a world so carefree like hers outside his orderly, solemn one. But he began to live a life like that too.

And he made a choice.

He chose to join her and her people.

Because he was so sick of killing people. So sick of seeing 'mudblood' that wasn't dirty and wasn't contaminated and wasn't any different from other blood.

She looked up to him for his quiet wisdom and the way he could somehow make her smile through her worst. And he taught her to be patient and to appreciate and wait for the right path to take, because one day, that freedom of choice could so easily be snatched away.

She saw the pain in his eyes everyday and held his hand through it all because she had hope. And she loved it when she saw that her persistence was accomplishing something and he got a little bit better everyday. And with the patience he taught her, she made it through the good and the bad days because she knew healing took time. She showed him a brand new world where you can trust your own allies and friends because there were things called 'love' and 'trust' and 'faith' that existed.

He wondered why they didn't exist in his world.

Slowly, she pulled him through the ever shrinking entrance of his cave and showed him that the world outside of it wasn't so bad after all.

Together, they hid from his old life; from his past.

The boy was happy, because for once, he knew he'd done the right thing. And as they walked off into the sunset hand in hand, he smiled, because it finally felt like he had his happy ending. After all the things that he had been through, he was _so_ ready for his happy ending.

* * *

But life's not like that. Even when you seem to have found an opening in the dank cell you've been locked in, you realize that it is merely a crack – just enough to let some sunlight through. When they see that you've found it, they quickly patch it up again. It's their job, after all. 

One day when the morning mist still lingered in dew drops on the stiff leaves of the multi-coloured autumn trees, he watched her from his window. She was walking. She looked so peaceful, so carefree - alone.

Whenever they were together there seemed to be a weight on her shoulders and worried spark in her eyes. And however well she hid it, he knew it was the weight of his troubles that he'd passed on to her.

How could he do that to her? He'd ruined her. He let the guilt seep into the very deepest centre of him, because what right did he have to share his troubles with her?

He felt himself being torn out of his fairy tale, but knew it was all an illusion. It always had been.

Because out there, there were people who didn't want him to have a happy ending. People who would do anything in their power to make him feel the pain that he so feared. And she was his weakness. If something happened to her, he could never forgive himself. Would never forgive himself. And those people knew that. Which was why it was dangerous for her to have this connection, this allegiance to him. It was dangerous for her to know him.

It tore up inside to realize this because it just wasn't fair. Tore into him like a thousand daggers slowly driving down to the core of his soul. And it hurt just as much.

Pain.

How come people in the land of fairy tales could live happily ever after yet the fairy of tales seemed to have skipped right by him? It just wasn't fair.

How could he know if his decision was right or wrong? What was right and what was wrong? No one can ever tell you because deep inside, they don't really know either.

But then again, this was war wasn't it? And wars were like that. No right and wrong. Just conflicts. They magnify all the prejudices and the conflicts of the past and the present and bring them out to mean so much more than they actually do.

Wars divide people.

Divides them with such clear, precise lines that are so unrealistic because in the real world, when does everyone have the exact same side?

They wear their masks, for when you've chosen a side for so long, do you ever stop and wonder why anymore?

It's merely become a face, a notion to hide behind.

And soon, after so long of doing destructing the opposite side, what difference does it make to do it to your own? Those masked creatures turn on each other for the sole purpose of self preservation.

Yet when that happens, the walls crumble from within and crush their own inhabitants. And they blink in the light and wonder why they built those walls in the first place. They can't seem to remember because all they knew was the feeling of blindly plunging forth for a cause that was not their own, but one made for them already.

All is fair in love and war. As if.

So in the end, it really just comes down to who survived and who didn't.

The boy knew that the girl had to survive, because there were people who needed her to. Including him. But she was needed by the world more than he needed her right now. So he was sacrificing her for the good of herself and the world. And it was the right thing to do. Even if it brought him pain, the thing he hated most.

He told her that. He told her that he was pushing her away because he couldn't bear losing her.

She was sorry that it had to be like this, this way. She was sorry but she understood. She didn't cry because she knew that tears did nothing for the pain in one's heart.

He turned and walked away. Left her standing there all alone, the wind biting at both of them and making their eyes water. Of course, it was only the wind.

He heard her feeble plead for him to wait, but he didn't look back. He had to get away before it became too much to take. He heard the plea echo, and he heard the silence, but he didn't look back because he knew it'd hurt too much. He knew that if he did, he wouldn't be able to resist running back into her arms.

Where it was safe, and there were no such things as doubts and second thoughts.

* * *

**A/N:** So… two more chapters to go, which means that this is not over yet. 

What do you think? Did this make you think at all? Now go, review and I'll be really happy today.

Flame me if desired. Hey, while you're at it, torch me with the Olympics flame and spear me with a spork.

Next update will be soon. I've gotten the whole thing written already and saved in my computer.

Dead spiders anyone?


	2. Part Two: Alive

**A/N:** This chapter was kind of hard to write. Don't ask me why. It's a short one! It sucks, I know. Yell at me later. Next one will be better.

But just so you know… it's basically a transition chapter from the beginning to the end. That's why it's so pointless and… angsty-ish.

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**Answers in the Intermissions**

**Part Two: Alive**

Life still went on.

The boy didn't know why; didn't know how; but it did. The Sun; that got too much credit but was beautiful nonetheless, still rose in the east and set in the west, and the moon was always there. The stars still shone their twinkling little melody every night, and the owls still hooted their lonely, hollow hoots over the thick white blanket of snow that covered the ground.

Even on the busy streets of London, festivities had begun and cheerful salutations could be heard over the chatter wishing each other a Merry Christmas and dear Merlin was it that time of the year already?

But the sun wasn't as bright and the moon wasn't as silver and the stars seemed to dim just a little bit. Even the owls seemed to carry a mournful note in their calls now.

Even Christmas had lost its spirit. But then again, it had never had its spirit in his world.

He missed her. It hurt. And life became a piano tune that no one had the heart to practice anymore.

Anyone can get the notes right. And it will still be called a song - a melody, because it's basically there. But without the dynamics, it all means nothing. It's still a song, because it's there, but there's no point to listening to it.

But if you give up on it, after a while you forget how to play it. That was his life.

He was alive, yes. If being alive meant eating and breathing and blood flowing. Yet he wasn't living. And if someone were to look deep into his eyes, there'd be an emptiness in its silvery expanse.

Because what they said was true – the eyes really are windows to ones soul.

The boy began to sink back into his cave. He still read his fairy tales, though.

Living became a chore. Miraculously, his body still knew how to function everyday and get on with its routine. But his heart had forgotten how to live. Possibly, it had forgotten how to beat as well.

But really, it didn't matter how he felt. Because it had been the right thing to do.

* * *

The girl managed to go on with life almost normally. But then again, she had friends who cared and a family who nurtured and little dreams to chase.

She knew he didn't and she worried for him. And she wondered what had become of him.

Even though she understood why he had to go, she couldn't truly accept it. She was consoled by his promise to return one day. She wondered when 'one day' was in the land that he had gone back to. Was it in this life or the next? Or maybe – maybe 'one day' was a mirage in that place that he went to; that place full of the shadows and echoes of early morning nightmares.

Nonetheless she waited. Waited for a 'one day' that might not come, but would be worth the wait should it decide to.

She seemed to be waiting for an awful lot lately.

And while she waited, she watched the sky turn into a palate of gold and orange and red and purple.

She counted the stars each night and wished upon the brightest one to put an end to her waiting.

She inwardly blew kisses at strangers on the busy streets – to feel the holiday spirit… and because they might be him.

She gave in to their relentless pleas for her to join in the holiday preparations, and found herself actually enjoying it.

She even began to smile.

* * *

Many a day the boy found that his feet took him to the now deserted beach he used to love as a child. No one was there, for the seasonal chill had made beachcombing and unpopular sport.

He liked the ocean.

It made him feel small and safe. It hid him. It made him feel as if his troubles really weren't as big. As the ice cold waves tickled his feet and the sea breeze mussed his hair (it wasn't much of a priority anymore), it felt as if he'd never grown up.

The boy watched the currents laps the jagged rocks by the shoreline, mesmerized by the steady rhythm. Maybe this was how those lost at sea felt before the water overcame them. Peaceful. Calm.

He dreamed of a simpler time, when girls were still just a little bit frightening and days were spent sketching all the wonderful places he'd travel to and all the monstrous dragons he'd defeat.

He wondered when he would finally kill his dragon and save the damsel.

He wished life were back to a time when daddy was always right; was a role model and a hero. When mommy's kiss would make the biggest booboos and aches go away. When the future was so secure: be like daddy, be a dark servant, and always remember that right was power and wrong was weakness.

If only daddy could see him now.

As the boy gazed into the horizon, he marvelled at its serenity. Was the ocean waiting too? Waiting for something to disrupt its calm, bring life to its still skyline?

Perhaps… it was best to have left her. Because, if he had made such a good decision by coming to this world, how come he felt so terrible now? Something must have gone wrong somewhere in this whole mess. He must have skipped by a step while growing up. It wasn't supposed to happen this fast.

But then again, he had hurt back then, from where he came from as well. Even more so than now, if that was possible. So maybe he had done something right after all.

He wondered what she was doing, somewhere out there in this big, big world. He missed everything; her dreams, her fears, her smile. She was so wonderful. So innocent. So vulnerable.

She was vulnerable. Alone and vulnerable.

But… he had left her for a reason hadn't he? To save her from their wrath. So he had done the right thing. He had done the right thing. The right thing.

He found that the words began to lose their meaning after being repeated so many times.

Carried off by the wind to a land far, far away. You can chase it, but the breeze is always one step ahead of you.

Then it hit him. It hit him like a cold blast of air that chilled to his bones. It was a chilling thought that jumbled through his head like a lost traveller in a foreign land. It lingered there like a nightmare you can't seem to wake from. It nagged…

She was still vulnerable wasn't she? Endangered. Alone. All because he had left her.

They would have known about her long ago already wouldn't they? - This made no difference. If they'd wanted to hurt her, they would've done it long ago… and they still could. Maybe they were just biding their time, waiting for the perfect opportunity. A lion watching its prey, hidden in the tall grass. And when it was alone… they'd pounce.

And if they chose to make their move now, he wouldn't even be there to stop them. They'd tear her apart, rip her flesh.

Oh, the imagery.

Anyone could see that he still cared right? They knew that she was still his weakness.

And – and there hadn't really been a real reason anyways.

It just wasn't good enough. There was none. It was merely an excuse. Maybe he had been scared. Afraid of love; people are always afraid of the unknown. She had loved him. No one else had before. His mother and father, they were obliged to. It was their duty.

She chose to.

And he'd lost her already.

But Merlin, he was going to chase after that happy ending whether it wanted him to or not.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, one more chapter to go. Alright. I'm sorry about the God of fluff! Draco. Really, I am. You see, the fluff-o-meter quit on me because it felt it was being overused, so I had nothing to tell me to tone it down a bit.

So… now it's your turn. Leave a comment. Encourage me, inspire me, and give me a first degree burn with your flames.

Thanks for the reviews –insert thankful smiley- I love them hint, hint The idea came randomly. Out of the blue. But I like it. I honestly feel flattered to be considered that talented. – insert blushing smiley-

Next chapter next week.


	3. Part Three: Asleep

**A/N: **The third and last instalment to my first three-shot! Hope you enjoyed it, and thanks for reading.

* * *

**Answers in the Intermissions**

**Part Three: Asleep**

There was a man.

But… can he really be called a man, if he couldn't die and you could see his hate for the world in the reds of his eyes?

But we'll just call him a man for the sake of simplicity.

The boy often wondered what could bring a man to the brink of insanity and indefinite power.

He had been human once. He had been a boy, alone in a world that was full of good, somehow. But life seemed to have taught him otherwise.

It was awful how so much hate and malevolence and violence could fit into just one seventh of a soul.

* * *

It was the girl who saw him first. She saw them both as she was taking her morning walk. 

The day had started off optimistically, for there had been something in the sunrise that had whispered a change for the better to her.

Now she wondered why the dawn had lied to her.

They were facing one another, each with such a look on their face, unblinking, each knowing what was going to happen. Perfect calm.

Time seemed to freeze.

The girl remembered reading about how ones life flashed before their eyes before they died. She wondered why her life was flashing by hers right now.

She remembered the day when they had gone walking by a church cemetery, reading the inscriptions on the cracked headstones.

She remembered stopping by two in particular, and she remembered him asking her whether she would die if something happened to him.

She remembered placing a chaste kiss upon his lips and avoiding the question.

Now, she knew the answer to this question.

And then time happened again.

The girl knew that he couldn't die. She knew it more and more as a whispered "no…" left her lips.

Not if she could help it. No.

No. NO. _NO!_

She was screaming it now as tears blurred her vision and she blindly ran to him with this new adrenaline.

What did it matter if she tripped and fell? You just get back up again.

Struggling on.

Stumbling.

Running.

* * *

The man was angry. He had been betrayed - let down. And ultimate power leaves no room for betrayal and insecurities. Just elimination. Elimination, elimination, and one day…

* * *

The boy felt his presence; acknowledged him. He didn't run; it would make no difference. Then he saw her.

* * *

They all saw the whispered curse, the flash of light, magic, energy, death. But for one of them, they saw no more. 

The man's lips curved to form a malicious smile of mirth. It was all a game; a fox hunt. Killing one today meant more left over for tomorrow's fun.

It was all a fun, fun game.

* * *

The boy knelt down onto the ground. He saw the blood staining what was left of the snow on the ground. How could he ever have found that pretty? 

Numb.

And all the spells he muttered, the charms he desperately coaxed, they wouldn't stop the blood. And it pained him to feel so helpless as he watched the blood flow and its metallic tang filled the frigid air around them.

Pain. There it was again. Never satisfied, always hunting him down. Strangling him, suffocating, sinking, burying.

Pain and rage are a dangerous combination. Even more so were pain and rage and love.

He realized that he hated magic, then; for it had failed him - and because it could stomp out life like sand over a flickering flame, and because with a flick of the wrist and a few words, it could make things better or worse.

And it was all so simple and effortless and _fast_.

Life wasn't like that. It wasn't supposed to be. There shouldn't be a spell that cleaned away memories as easily as it could wipe away spilled blood.

There wasn't a charm that could get rid of your past and set your record straight. And there shouldn't be.

It was wrong.

* * *

They buried her behind the little church. He watched the casket lowered into the ground and couldn't help wondering if she'd finally found her destination. 

He stayed there, alone in the cathedral long after the ceremony had ended. Long after the very last friends and family had left in their shiny cars wearing their expensive black robes.

The cathedral felt mystical, holy. The boy had always felt un-pure whenever he entered one – as if his every move was being scrutinized and written down to be filed away forever.

He saw the light coming in through the stained glass windows fade, and then brighten up, and then felt night come once more.

He realized that now, he knew what it was that could drive a man to that point of hatred and psychotic. He knew what could suck the humanity out of someone like a drinking straw.

It was the knowledge – and the acceptance – of the fact that for all the shiny packaging of life, you're always alone. There was no good in the world, no justice, no one to back you up. It was all a lie, a scam.

And in the end, it's survival of the fittest. In the game of survival, there is no room for love and laughter and companions and silly mistakes.

There was no point dreaming because you're just going to wake up anyways.

All there was were your guts, because there was no hope. And you know that you're all alone in this unforgiving world, where life can slip through your grasp like a wet bar of soap Sinking to the bottom of the tub.

Better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. Such a lie…

There was no right or wrong. And there were no happy endings.

A game of cat and mouse; you can run and you can hide, but you can't escape.

How could he live knowing that?

So he struck the window. It was too beautiful for this world anyways.

The boy saw the colourful glass shatter, saw each shard reflect a brilliant glint of sunlight before it fell to the ground.

He saw the blood before he felt it. But when the pain came, oh, it was such a welcome distraction. He picked out a piece from his wrist and saw more blood pour from the opening, all the while knowing what it meant.

From the dim orange of the sky the boy knew that the sun was rising. Or was it setting? He had lost track of time long ago.

He remembered how she used to talk about sunrises. And sunsets. She used to say that it was a reminder that life goes on. That everyday was a chance to start over and forget the past, because it disappeared the evening before with the setting sun in the West.

That was the beauty of life, she explained. You don't give up because tomorrow is a clean palate, open for new mistakes and new beginnings. Life goes on, even if yesterday's palate was a mess. That's all washed away now.

And as he numbly observed the scarlet streaks along his arm, the boy discovered that he didn't want to die. He wanted to see the next sunrise.

He couldn't feel it anymore. He couldn't feel anything anymore. And… he wasn't afraid of **_pain_** anymore. He was afraid of **_death_**. Dying.

It was getting hard to think now. The boy stumbled feverishly to her newly covered grave and collapsed against the brand new, smooth headstone. The fresh flowers placed there had begun to wilt, he noticed with clarity.

She wouldn't want him to die.

The muttered healing charms attempted came out as a garbled nonsense as he began to blubber and shudder. Then his body stilled as he realized why it wouldn't work.

It was because he hated magic and it had failed him. Why should it work now?

He began to feel peaceful. He was back at the coast where the waves continued to lap at him. And he was closer to her now.

He choked out a chuckle because it was funny as he watched his own blood run softly over the stone and become mixed in the dirt and become _mud_blood.

A solitary tear trickled across his face.

* * *

The next morning they found him. They buried him there next to her in the lonely little church cemetery. 

He had nothing left to live for, they said. He loved her too much, that's why he did it. He wanted to die.

If only they knew.

* * *

Over the years many passed those two graves, but not many stopped to acknowledge them. For some, it wastoo painful a reminder of humanity. For others, it wastoo irrelevant. 

Those who did, they shook their heads in pity, for what a shame - two promising… children… not yet quite grown up yet trying so hard to be. Maybe if they'd learned sooner that growing up was so extremely overrated… maybe if it had all gone differently…

But their speculations seemed to drift off there. What would have happened if it hadn't ended like this? Could it be that nothing would have changed? Or would a stitch in time have mended this torn quilt?

They wondered. They pondered.

They waited for an answer to it all – an answer to the age old question that the boy and the girl seemed to have found at last… just too late.

They're still waiting.

Fini

* * *

**A/N: **Well, there you have it. The end. I think I actually kind of like this chapter. Was it what you expected? Or was it twisted? Wrong? 

Not going to bother asking for reviews. I know that it just puts people off wanting to, so it's kind of pointless.

I kind of played around with borderline insanity in this chapter didn't I?


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